


It Soothes My Soul

by Shijun



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, PotterworldMC
Genre: Aimilona is Jeremiah's house elf, Hogwarts, Ice Skating, PotterworldMC - Freeform, Stars, Studying, Tea, The Burrow, There'll be other characters involved next chapter, Wizards, Writing, spells, tired
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-03-21
Packaged: 2018-09-14 14:32:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9186458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shijun/pseuds/Shijun
Summary: Jeremiah Flamel is a wizard that studied at the British school of witchcraft and wizardry, meanwhile he originates from France. He wasn't sent to the French school for odd reasons, that neither his parents, or he could explain. He spent a few years studying herbology, hoping to make an important discovery, to honour the reputation his family name gives him. Yet he quickly grew tired of it, and seeks interest in various subjects, and explores, to find out who he really is.





	1. Educating the mind without educating the heart is no education at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most of the HP references are changes to custom Lore and names, to reflect the ones we use on PotterworldMC, Minecraft server based on the magical universe of Harry Potter where you get to become a true wizard!

 

“The comet 34A has a bright blue core, and emits a slightly pink gaze when it moves, leaving a purple fading trail behind. Its coordinates…”

Jeremiah stopped writing, sighing at the poor quality of that essay. The more he tried gathering data about those stars and comets, the _madder_ he’d become.  
He laid back on his chair, massaging his neck and closing his eyes to rest and clear out the negative mindset.

He was used to studying plants, but this recent project he was leading was far more interesting. Jeremiah believed that some of the star movements were not scientific, but induced by magic. In fact, he believes the comets we see are the way, some wizards of other places we don’t know of yet, found to travel very long distances.

He started noticing that some meteorites were always going from the same departure point, down to the same destination. Then he realised that there were parameters to those comets: sizes, colors… and that those parameters could be related to something specific, yet nothing he could enlighten so far.

  
The inconvenient of studying the stars is that you have to spend lots of time at night, sacrificing some sleep in order to get the best of those moments where the outside lighting is only caused by those tiny little sparkles very up high in the sky.

  
_In space._  
  
  
“Enough for tonight”. Upon those words, his book and quill starting moving away from the table to fly up over a bookshelf, hidden from immediate sight. The desk would shiver a little to get rid of its dust. Jeremiah stood up, scratched his eyes and let a long yawn escape from his dry mouth. He had been spending a few hours sitting there with no beverage or food around.

It was about great time for a snack and a drink.

The flooring was old and noisy, almost bending at the weight of the wizards walking by.   
Jeremiah stepped out of one of the rooms on the first floor, finding balance holding against the corner of the door while passing it, scratching his eyes again, then earring carefully to check if anyone was around.  
He could hear the ticking of a couple clocks downstairs, a light wind making the window panes shiver some times.

 

Everything was frozen outside, at this time of the year. There were some snowflakes falling outside, as if everything was slowed down. Jeremiah reached the sink, washed his hands, I looked outside the window, staring at this soothing scenery.

He pulled out his wand, cut from a beech tree, with a coral core, from the long scabbard that turns it into a cane.

He would come to this place, some call _the Dwelling_ , in order to find a peaceful environment in which he can research and think on his own. However he would only come when nobody is around, afraid of being asked questions he doesn't want to provide answers for. He would only come when the current owners of the place would be out, even though he knew them, not so well, but enough to be welcome within the house.  
Other advantages of this place are that it provides a pretty wide range of vegetables to cook with, and Jeremiah adored them. Some say previous owners of this place used to be highly interested in non-wizards, to be studying them. Therefore, a lot of fruits and vegetables from the gardens originates from different places and have different original tastes, left untouched from magic.

 

After a couple enchantments, the soup was stirring itself, slightly boiling, spreading a warm salty delicious smell over the room. In the meantime, Jeremiah was staring at the snow, through the windows slightly covered in mist. More precisely he was staring at the pond that was completely frozen, and an instant later he had this idea, maybe not a good one, but one that would be fun and entertaining.

 

He summoned his coats and a pair of gloves, and brushed outside. He quickly reached the pond, and stopped, slightly digging the snow, foot after foot, left the right foot over the ice, and hit his boot with his wand, attracting some ice towards it to form a sharp blade strongly attached to it. He repeated the same process to the to the left foot, and made himself a pair of ice skates.

It was a delightfully bad idea, because he had never skated before, especially not on ice, yet he was so excited to try that, no matter what happened, he would just only remember the fun of it.

 

It was like being a baby not able to walk properly, losing balance one step after the other, trying to grab something in the air, arms spread wide, moving uncontrollably, gasping every moment and so. And the air was so cold that he's cheeks were turning red as well as the tip of his nose. But he couldn't feel the cold, he could only feel the excitement from being able to slide over the ice with such difficulty and challenge. Only after a few minutes he was able to move forward properly, not losing balance as often as before. He started to feel confident moving over the ice, and could gain speed quicker slightly leaning forward, knowing how to pressure his feet properly and to perform this dance that allowed him to move. Only when he was moving he could find this relaxing balance and smooth movement, when he remembered the soup was still cooking, and probably over cooked by now, as he rushed back inside, right on time.

Every thoughts of these studies left his mind while cooking and skating outside. He needed this. He knows he could spend a few days living on his own, focused on his research, but he would eventually need to see people, and talk about his work to somebody to regain some confidence and start writing again.

 

"You know I could cook for you, Sir.”

The soup almost got sprayed all over the floor, as Jeremiah jumped hearing this voice he surely knew but was not expecting.

 

"I thought I told you not to surprise me that way, Aimilona. Your _purpose_ is to serve, not to scare.”

The small house elf was as tall as a small stool. Aimilona was wearing a couple earring Jeremiah had gifted her by the past.   
The biggest one, hanging from the bottom of her right ear, was a silver fairy, sometimes dancing and changing its pose, to make it appear different every time you look at it.  
  
Aimilona smiled at Jeremiah, even though she didn’t really appreciate to be mentioned she “ _has a purpose_ ”. And instead of answering, she snapped, controlling the saucepan out of Jeremiah hands, to move it towards the table, where she had previously laid the table. And while the soup was slowly pouring in a delicate china, she kept smiling and staring at Jeremiah, expecting any sort of feedback.

“Did dad send you here again because he worries about my _sanity_?” he asked, moving towards the table, showing Aimilona a chair next to his so she could sit with him.

“He certainly did by the past, but this time I actually asked them if I could visit, and serve you, for a few days.”  
She didn’t move an inch, standing close to the stove, still staring at him.

“I appreciate it.”

 

He started focusing on his soup, through discrete, spaced slurps, in order not to burn his whole mouth with the hot and well cooked soup, keeping his eyes on the orange-coloured mixture.

“Sit.”, and the chair next to him shivered, as if slightly shaken to indicate a position. The elf obeyed, sitting calmly on the chair. Now, only her ears were visible over the table, Aimilona being remarkably small and stealthy.

“You’ve proven yourself to be pretty good at ice skating it appears, Sir!”

Jeremiah stopped eating for a moment, and stared at the chair that slightly started lifting itself upwards so he could see the face of the house elf.

  
“How long have you been around me, exactly?”

“Only for the past hour or so. I landed on the roof shortly before you stopped writing.”

“What do you mean, you _landed on the roof_?”

 

She tilted her head slightly to the left, as if he knew the answer to the question he just asked.

“I suffer from motion sickness while teleporting… do you remember, Sir? Just like you do, Sir. That’s the first thing you noticed we had in common when I arrived in the Flamel family. I asked a nice witch if she was flying this way, and she got me all the way from London to this place very nicely.”

 

“I don’t like it very much when you talk to strangers, Aimilona.”

A silence settled around, the chair dropped subtly, and the soup slurping started again. Aimilona waited a moment, then stood up… well, jumped off the chair, and headed over to the stove to start magically cleaning the kitchen, silently. She wasn’t sad, or disappointed, or even angry. 

 

She was used to it.


	2. She vanished

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeremiah has missed a lot of opportunities to sleep properly. His sleeping schedule is troubled, Aimilona is always here to help, and we meet another character...

The sun rose up the following morning, with no clouds to stop its light yellow rays to enlighten the surroundings. Slowly, a few rays of light were covering Jeremiah’s dark brown hair, his head lain upon the table of the first floor room, research books wide open, his mouth emitting a very light snore every minute or so.

Aimilona was sitting on top of a bookshelf, waving her feet in the air for the past couple hours. She wouldn’t get bored watching and listening to Jeremiah studying the sky over nights. Like a very patient kid, she would look around, stare sometimes, but mostly look around, and ponder. When she would really get bored, she would put off her silver earring, and enchant the silver fairy to fly around in the room, playing hide and seek with it.

  


Not this time.

  


She jumped down the library, looked around and re-arranged the room a little, then flicked two fingers to teleport herself and Jeremiah out of the place.

  


  
*

  


  


It was warm in the small manor, and we could hear ticking noises from downstairs. Jeremiah was slowly waking up, realising he’d been brought home after falling asleep working. It wasn’t the first time, and wasn’t so surprised.

  


“Green tea. With some thyme and brown sugar in it.”

  


He stood up, and remained still has he started hearing someone playing the piano downstairs. The small mansion had three floors, and all over the structure, every note was resonating, echoing, finding it’s way through every door frame, slithering into every room to be heard.

  


He started walking downstairs at a quick pace.

  


“I never mentioned a piano in that request, Aim’.”

  


He stopped halfway, as he noticed it wasn’t Aimilona playing. She, instead, was standing, next to the mysterious pianist, with a teapot and a couple tea cups, hot and ready to be sipped, smiling with that constant smirk that implies she could murder you in your sleep for not being polite.

  


“To what do I owe the pleasure?”

  


The scene was quite ridiculous from the outside. Jeremiah, fully dressed in night blue pyjamas, standing halfway in the stairs, Aimilona smiling in the middle, an unidentified person playing the piano. If the house elf was to plot a murder, it would be the perfect set up to let Jeremiah sip a sweet poison and fall asleep for an everlasting eternity.

  


The piano stopped.

  


“I thought you liked _Passepied_? Does time affect you so much?”

  


Jeremiah grumbled.

  


“Long time no see, Prior.”

  


They stood there for a few seconds, until we could here a spoon shivering on tray Aimilona was holding. The whole tray was starting to be heavy for the house elf’s tiny arms, and although she could just lift it with magic, the tingling noise was a good way to have Jeremiah react.

  


They both moved silently towards the small kitchen, preceded by Aimilona, mumbling the piano song with a low hum.

  


They sat.

  


The elf poured a generous amount of tea in each tea cup, while Prior quickly leaned over the hallway to enchant the piano to play another Debussy masterpiece.

  


_Clair de Lune_.

  


They both sipped their tea at the same time, then laid back in their chair.

  


Jeremiah was starring through the window. The sun had been around for a little while, it was close to noon.

  


“I notice that having Aimilona around doesn’t make you any more talkative. You should be thankful, she’s around you all day to help you.”

  


“I didn’t ask for it.” responded Jeremiah.

  


If Aimilona had eyebrows, they’d have pierced the ceiling by now, yet all she did was smile, as usual. Prior remained silent for a couple seconds, then smashed the table with his fist, knocking over his cup of tea and shaking every thing placed on it. The piano had stopped playing.

  


“Now you’re being rude, Jeremiah.” he said, with tones of red colouring his cheeks.

  


“Sorry, Aimilona. To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit, Prior?”

  


Jeremiah put his cup down on the table, stood up, and walked closer to the door, to look through it’s panes.

  


“I didn’t call the Ministry, Jeremiah, stop worrying about a visit you’re not expecting.”

  


“Well I wasn’t expecting you, yet you’re here.”

  


“I am your _friend_ , in case you still value the few you have yet you never contact them. I came to tell you that Claire has vanished. Her parents sent me a letter, and you probably got one as well, but I don’t imagine you read your mail.”

  


Jeremiah spinned and looked at Prior with big eyes, surprised.

  


“Who is Claire, Sir?”

  


Aimilona had remained silent for the past hours, and those were the first few words she said.

Jeremiah didn’t answer, he summoned his mail to retrieve the letter from her parents.

  


“Claire Vance. She was one of our very good friends in school. Once, she helped Jeremiah that got stuck as he climbed a bookshelf in the library to reach a book. The book fell on the other side of the bookshelf, and Jeremiah lost balance and grabbed the top of it. Everyone was very amused by the situation, he laughed about it as well, yet he didn’t know what to do to. That is when we met Claire. She was walking by and saw the whole situation. She lifted her wand, and transfigured his cape into peculiar wings that flew him back to the ground.”

  


Both the house elf and Prior were smiling, it was a lovely story to hear. A story Jeremiah would never had shared. He wasn’t the type of wizard that would narrate stories involving himself.

  


“Do you have any idea what happened?”

  


He was reading through the letter, while Aimilona was cleaning the mess he made with the envelope.

  


“Her parents mentioned she left a suicidal note, but they don’t think it’s her writing. They analysed her apartment and found some footsteps and traces of magic that didn’t seem familiar. But nothing that would lead to kidnapping or…”

  


He stopped, and wondered silently.

  


Jeremiah looked at Aimilona, and nodded at her, as if she would understand, and walked upstairs. She started tidying the kitchen with magic, and went to fetch a handbag in a dusty chest on the other side of the house.

  


“Wait, what are you two doing?”

  


“Sir Jeremiah is getting prepared.”. She only answered half of the question, yet she was busy moving things around, and summoned a quill and some paper at the table they previously were both sipping tea.

She started writing, Prior recognised the way Jeremiah would write, and quickly understood she was answering to his parents in his place, and it wasn’t the first time.

  


“Are you lying to the family you serve, Aimilona?”

  


She looked up, and smiled.

  


“I’ve been serving the Flamels for a long time, Prior Barrett, Sir. And believe me, Sir, that I know who in that family is having the most fun… and has the smallest house to clean.”

  


Prior would swear he saw her wink, and her behaviour suddenly started making so much sense to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Aimilona winked.


	3. Mémoire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeremiah and Prior seek what possibly happened to Claire Vance, while Jeremiah is conflicted with memories of his youth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story starts to get darker tones from there.

They reached King’s Cross very quickly after lunch, and boarded the train that would lead them to their good old school.

Jeremiah remembered every bit of his scholarship. But what his family and he could never figure out, is the reason why he got sent to the British school of witchcraft and wizardry, and not the French one. His parents contacted both schools many times to understand what exactly happened, yet nothing explains it. His dad was furious, whereas his mom managed to mostly express happiness and a lot of encouragement.  
He remembered receiving the letter for his tenth birthday, inviting him for the following year. His english wasn’t elaborate, and he could barely read anything but his name on the paper. He woke up early that morning, went downstairs to play, and stumbled upon the pile of letters sitting at the doorstep inside. 8 replicas of it were piled up there, maybe to make sure they would reach his house.  
He spent his youth living in Normandy, in the north of France, very close to the sea. He would admire the lighthouses illuminate the sky at night, spinning around for hours. His parents taught him to control the little magic he expressed at a young age.   
The area they lived in was more crowded in cows and sheep than proper non-wizards, so it was highly improbable to be noticed.

The letter changed a lot. His father, Leon Flamel, was furious. He sent many letters to the British Ministry of Magic, and burned every response he got. They would flame in light blue flames, and Jeremiah adored watching that from the staircase.  
His mother immediately started teaching him english. He would get daily lessons, for the whole year, and during the summer breaks of his first and second year in school. For the following years, his parents would summon an english house elf to help him practice, so he wouldn’t have to come back to Normandy every year. 

He spent the following summer breaks close to London, with Aimilona.

“Jeremiah? Hello? Do you want treats? The train lady is here.”

He had become unresponsive, lost in his thoughts and memories. After refusing he now started reminiscing details about his studies, holding his coat closer as he felt cold.

 

“Claire Vance, Ravens.”

She just saved him from being stuck in the library. They were both third years. Prior was still laughing about it, and they both thanked Claire at the same time. From then on, they would hang out together a lot more.

“We sit in the middle rows, not at the back, not at the front. Middle rows go unnoticed, unless you have a crazy hair colour.”

Prior was the brain, most of the time. He was very well organised, and managed to perform very well throughout his studies in Serpents. He immediately got along with Jeremiah. In fact, they were the two most quiet students when they arrived at school: they stayed on the side and watched, barely ever speaking or considering the existence of other students. During a Potions class, the teachers asked to work in pairs. Obviously, the two leftovers were the two that never actually spoke to others. They had to prepare a Babbling Beverage, and lord knows how many words they spoke. Out of the ordinary, every other Serpent was occasionally staring at them completely messing their potion up, and being affected by the faulty defective vapours that made them speak uncontrollably.

“Peanut poop potiron package!” and Jeremiah would fall off his chair, laughing.

“Fizzles flicks flew f… what’s a ‘potiron’ ?!” Prior would laugh as well, looking at him with wide eyes, while the professor would occasionally come close to them and sermonise them.

“It means plum — pickles — pastry — … damn potion! it means pumpkin.”

 

*

 

Prior and Jeremiah didn’t board those boats to the castle for a while. It had been 7 years since both of them graduated. The graduation process was memorable. Over the lake, every student would be boarded onto several boats. And while the castle would emit a few fireworks and lanterns, students could admire memorable scenes of their scholarship in the very reflection of the lake water, as if TV screens were attached to the boats and projecting videos to the surface, on the edge of the barques.

“I think Claire hated it.”

“Hated what?” Jeremiah didn’t expect Prior to talk, deeply contemplating the castle.

“The graduation ceremony. She didn’t express any emotion, don’t you remember?”

“… How did you find the time to even look at her? I was so focused looking at the memories in the lake.”

Those memories were the heritage of 7 long years of practice, exams and many, many hours of classes. Drama, love stories, fights, trouble, accidents…

“I think there was a moment where the strange girl with the shiny blonde hair in Griffins screamed, you know, Oralie Cahan?”

He remembered her, though he did not nod, nor say yes.

The boat stopped.

“Sir, I think there is something wrong.” Aimilona said, discretely, stuck under a boat seat.  
She was holding her light pink robe tight. It was rather short, to allow her to move and stretch easily, and had no sleeves and a right round collar looking like a heart. Her little fairy earring was covering her eyes and seemed scared.

Prior and Jeremiah pulled out their wand from their coat. It was the middle of the afternoon, what an odd timing for something dangerous to happen?

-

“Stupefy!”

Prior had cast a spell at Jeremiah, that fell over the boat, and, stunned, slowly started to sink.

 

*

 

“I drink, you drink, he,she,it drink, we…”

“I’m sorry, Sir, it takes an ’s’ with the third person.”

They had been studying for the past couple hours. Aimilona didn’t have her earring at that time, nor the cute light pink robe. Instead, she was wearing a formal light purple shirt, a badge stitched to it with her name on it, and black shorts.

Jeremiah was 12 at that time, medium long, dark curly hair falling over his cheeks and forehead. We could instantly notice the Heterochromia that was affecting his eyes, both being of a different color. While his left eye would remain of a light green iris, his right eye would change, along factors that do not always make any sense. At this moment, it was a strong, marine blue.

“Now, Sir, would you try again?”

“Actually, could we take a little break?”

He thought, for a second.

“Well it’s not like you had an opinion on that. I’m going to take a short break.”

Aimilona was already nodding, quietly, but wasn’t smiling like she does nowadays.

Jeremiah liked learning English, but his mind was carrying him somewhere else, to questions he didn’t have the answer to, to self-identification. Why didn’t he belong to the French school of witchcraft and wizardry? Why did he look, and feel different to his family, to the persons he met and knew until now?

 

-

 

His wrists.   
The first thing he felt was the pain all over his wrists. Jeremiah was slowly regaining consciousness, wet, cold, in a dark, large room, tied by the wrists with a mossy rope. It smelled like smoke, and old attics.  
The ground was unusually cold. Jeremiah didn’t have his coat anymore, nor his leather boots. His socks, shirt and pants were all wet.  
He regained his sight, and started to acknowledge his environment. There were distant footsteps, torches outside, behind a door that seemed very strong and locked. His wand was gone as well, no way of possibly escaping.

“Aimilona?”

He looked around but couldn’t find the house elf. He started remembering the boat, the castle… It was unclear what stunned him, yet it was certain his fellow house elf wasn’t responsible of that. Prior was his friend, long time friend, it was highly improbable that he would do him any harm. He was a quick achiever, a brain, while Jeremiah was a deep thinker, which justifies why his research takes so long. And an avalanche of “What if?” starting hitting his thoughts.

What if Claire didn’t disappear? What if it was just a coup monté to lead him to a trap? Why taking him back to that castle where they did their studies? What if… what if Aimilona was a disguised wizard? What if his parents are behind all this?

 

“Hello, Jeremiah Flamel.”

He could hear a distant voice, in the same room as his, in a corner where he couldn’t notice anything but a mere shadow.

“Please excuse the violence that led you here. You must wonder a lot of things.”

“‘Wonder’, to say the least.”

The hidden voice was a woman’s voice, rather low, with some light, musical and amusing tones to it. Before he could speak any further, she had cast a painful spell to his leg, to demand silence and respect.

“We’ve met before, Jeremiah…”

He started thinking that one of his “What if?” was right: Aimilona was under cover, maybe for a long while, possibly since she arrived.

“…’the comet 34A has a bright blue core, and emits a slightly pink gaze when it moves, leaving a purple fading trail behind.’”

Jeremiah couldn’t believe what he just heard. Those were the last lines he wrote from his research about the stellar transportation methods of wizards and witches. Why would anyone be interested in such a draft, unfinished research? Why quoting that specific line, why capturing the humble wizard studying the stars with the blurry illusion of ever making a discovery?

 

“We’ve met before, Jeremiah. I am the comet 34A.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG OMG OMG


	4. The Organisation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeremiah was kidnapped, and his encounter with the Comet is the beginning of a long adventure.

_The Comet_ took Jeremiah through several stairs, going up to a much more fancier part of the complex building. They reached a room that seemed to be the dining room. A long, long mahogany table with candles that she lit with a light movement of her hand.

 

_The Comet is a witch._

 

Jeremiah was doing the best he could to remember as many details as he could. She had incredibly long hair, blonde, bright platinum blonde, soft and slightly curvy hair. However she had shaved it on both sides, leaving a long and wild flow of hair from her forehead to the bottom of her back. She wore a long, black velvet fancy jacket, low heeled black boots, brown adventurous pants, tight to her legs.

 

She made him sit on a chair that wasn’t so comfortable, and reached the other side of the table, and sat. She was distant enough so he couldn’t analyse the colour of her eyes, but could determine the structure of her face. She had very thin eyebrows, very light pulpy lips, so light they almost match her skin colour, pale, as if she came from Scandinavian countries.

 

Silence.

 

“Where is Prior?”

 

She burst out laughing.

 

“Is that really the first question you have in mind?”

 

She stared at him, waiting for a response, but he gave none.

 

“Don’t blame him. We had a deal he couldn’t break.”

 

Manipulative, deal-maker, has a very high-pitched laughter.

 

“What do you want from me?”

 

“Now that’s a much more accurate question, Jeremiah Flamel.”

 

She stood up, and started walking around her side of the table at a slow pace. The curtains of the window behind her were closed. The light emitted by the many candles in the room were casting plural shadows of her over the floor and walls. We could hear a fireplace in a room nearby. The walls were covered with a vintage, blue wallpaper with a floral pattern. Most of the furniture around was made of mahogany wood.

 

“I want you to stop your research.”

 

Why did she need to stand up and walk to say such few words? She gave an incomplete answer, she’s trying to format her speech not to give him too much information.

 

“The things you think you know, or understand, are nothing, Jeremiah Flamel. You’re very, very far from what’s really going on, and there’s no need to research anything any further, or you’ll expose yourself to great danger.”

 

Threats. There was a small cabinet in the corner of the room she was close to, over which Jeremiah noticed a wand. Unlike any other he’d seen before, this one seemed to naturally emit some blue glimmer occasionally.

 

“If you agree to cease your project, you’ll be free. If you persist, I do not assure Leon and Elisabeth Flamel will be safe for long.”

His parents. Among the few people he knew, why did she have to threaten to harm his parents? Why not the quiet, smiling and innocent Aimilona?

 

Aimilona… 

Where was she?

 

Jeremiah tried to remember what happened on the boat, tried to think where she could have gone. The Comet didn’t mention her yet. There’s few chances she was part of her plan.

 

How could the Comet know he was leading this research? Was he spied by somebody or something? He couldn’t explain it.

 

“You’ll be escorted back to the British School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, where we took you. We detain your research and have the intention to keep it. Don’t look after it.”

 

She stood up, whistled, and left the room. Jeremiah was alone in the room, cuffed with the rope, sitting on his chair, still studying his environment to remember it. She had taken her wand with her while leaving the room. He couldn’t forget the blue glimmer escaping it.

 

The door the Comet took to leave slightly opened itself, then closed again. Jeremiah didn’t see anyone entering and was feeling a little confused, until he felt something pulling on his shirt to his right. He looked down and noticed a house elf. It wasn’t Aimilona, but an old and grumpy house elf that obviously didn’t want to talk.

 

Jeremiah followed him around the mansion, until he noticed they were slowly reaching an entrance door.

 

“Wait, we can’t just leave… What about my coat and my boots? And my wand?!”

 

His socks had slowly dried. The house elf grumbled, then led Jeremiah three rooms further, where his clothes were piled up over a table. The elf let the ropes fall off his wrists so he could dress up.

He reached the pile, and was expecting to grab his wand and stun the elf and seek Aimilona and his research, but couldn’t find anything but his clothes.

 

The house elf grinned, knowing what the wizard had in mind, and obviously didn't let it happen, then enchanted the ropes back over his wrists and started escorting him all the way back to the entrance door. The wall were made of stone, a beautiful volcanic very dark stone that was reflecting the dancing lights of the torches and candles around. Some chandeliers were hanging in a few areas, and the floor was mostly covered in multicolour carpets.

 

“… you know, I think you master is right, it was stupid to start this research from the very beginning. Now I’ve lost my friend, and she killed my house elf. I’m on my own now.”

 

Lies, of course.

 

The house elf stopped walking, and turned back to look at him, squinting his eyes to express confusion.

 

“She didn’t tell you, I bet. Her name was Aimilona, she was a lovely elf, a very noble servant to my family. I hope she didn’t suffer.”

 

The house elf rolled his eyes and started walking again, grumbling and swearing with a low voice. Jeremiah didn’t follow and snuck into a room next to him, hoping the elf would be grumbling for a few more minutes without noticing he had fled. He landed into a room that looked like a large library, but instead of books, were disposed thousands of different potion ingredients on many shelves.

Jeremiah wasn’t good at potions, he could never concoct anything useful. He looked around to find brewed potions he could drink to make the escape easier. He found a couple vials on a shelf at the other side of the room. Worms were crawling on the floor, a jar must have broken. The ceiling of the room was pretty low, and he could occasionally hear footsteps above him. He inspected every vial, bent over to see them better with his eyes, his hands still tied together. Every time he stepped sideways he kept saying “I’m so sorry” to the worms he may or may not have crushed on the way.

Next to him, a jar was full of eyes, all staring at him, following every movement.

 

* _CRASH_ *

 

A jar feel right behind him, spreading a disgusting matter all over the floor, stinking like rotten fish. He looked up to see what made it fall, and saw a small fluffy tail, light pink, wobbling proudly over the top shelf.

 

If that was the Comet’s cat, really, she wouldn’t look so intimidating any longer to Jeremiah.

The door opened, and Jeremiah instantly crouched as well as he could, trying not to lose balance with his hands tied, trying to hide in the corner of a shelf, to be able to jump, and knock that grumpy house elf as soon as he walked by.

 

However he could clearly see that it wasn’t the house elf that entered the room. He first noticed bright hair, and thought the Comet had noticed and found him. But the Comet wasn’t wearing pink clothes (and probably never would. That clearly doesn’t fit with her personality), whereas that witch was dressed up of a light pink jacket slightly unbuttoned in a casual non-provocative way, and light pink jeans.

 

She stopped walking not so far from the shelf where Jeremiah was hiding, and looked at the floor. She didn’t seem so irritated by the smell, nor the mess.

 

“Next time you do that, I’ll cook you.”

 

She was looking up, but Jeremiah swore for a second she was talking to him and started sweating.

 

“Juuuust kiddiiiing. Oh, but you made a friend I see.”

 

She spotted him, yet he didn’t want to react, or move so much. He just slightly tilted his head backwards to be able to analyse her face, and show her his.

 

Jeremiah cleared his throat, about to say something.

 

“Don’t. That room stinks too much I can’t even process anything.”

 

She sighed and flipped her hair over her shoulder.

 

“Come”

 

“I can’t”

 

Jeremiah couldn’t just walk out in the corridor with his hands tied and the risk to get caught by either the Comet, her house elf, or any or her followers.

 

“Oh come on, I’m 15, I’m start enough to understand you’re not supposed to be around here. How worse could it possibly be for you, huh? So unless you follow me, you’ll stay in that pathetic stinky room with your pathetic hands tied until you figure out an idea that will get you caught.”

 

Too much information at once. Could she be the Comet’s daughter? Very unlikely, yet possible given her sarcasm and the hair colour. And she made such a good point, what was he going to do in this pointless dark room, with hands tied? It’s not like he could possibly reach anything anyway.

 

She led the way out of the room through a second door, not even looking around her to check if someone would see them, feeling confident she would be unseen, strutting her way to the end of the corridor, reaching and going up more fancy stairs, and entering the first room, waiting for Jeremiah to catch up.

 

She closed the door, and locked it.

 

The whole room was soft, and light pink. There were a couple Serpent banners hanging next to large bookshelves. There were lots of books, some laying on the floor, over a fluffy carpet that was moving slowly, as if suspended in the middle of outer space, with no gravity. The window wouldn’t give him much information about his location, it was the beginning of a rainy night.

 

 

“I’m Audrey. Don’t ask, I know exactly what you’re going to ask me.”

 

She took a deep breath.

 

“Yes, I do live here. 

No, the weird blonde ladies not my mom. 

Yes, the house elf, York, is ALWAYS grumpy.

No, I don’t work with the Organisation. I’m too young, anyway…”

 

She was pacing the floor, walking in a round motion, moving her hands in the air while she was speaking.

 

“… and to finish, I’m not your friend, I do not know who you are, and I don’t quite care what you did to end up there. Did I miss something?”

 

“Are you always like that?”

 

Jeremiah didn’t quite think through before speaking.

 

“Like what?”

 

She stared at him, defying his eyes, and you could guess in her stare that she’d be capable of throwing you off the window depending on your answer.

 

“… Light pink? N… Nevermind. I need to get my wand back.”

 

“That is NOT going to happen, oldie.”

 

What did she just call him?

 

She seized her wand, that was, as well, light pink, and aimed at his wrists to free them.

 

“That’s all the help you’ll get from me. Again, I’m not your friend. I can’t be top of my class if I spend my time helping strangers that cause trouble to the Organisation.”

 

“What is that thing you call _the Organisation_?”

 

She sat on her bed and it was like it swallowed half of her body. The mattress sure seemed to be something you’d never wake up from.

“You don’t listen, do you?”

 

She took a book and quickly went through a hundredth of pages, to stop on one specific one, and handed it over to Jeremiah.

 

> _’70 Wizards Who Changed Our Lives’_ was open page 291.
> 
> ‘Sidera Blackbar was born on September 7th 1984 in Sunderland, UK. She studied at the British School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and was sorted into Griffins. She was known for her extraordinary performances in Potions, Astronomy, and Runes. She’s one of the very rare students who was given the opportunity to skip the third year due to outstanding involvement and mastery of her skills for a young lady of her age.
> 
> She co-wrote a thesis about the _Decay of Wizards’ Genome Throughout the Years_ , and won a _Granger-Frey_ prize for her _Theory about Astral Brooms_.
> 
> On December 24th 2014, she disappeared while experimenting on a highly modified broom specimen that took fire and led to an explosion.
> 
> Her family buried her in the Bishopwearmouth Cemetery on December 27th 2014.’

 

He looked up at Audrey, that was giggling, staring at her fingernails.

 

“Yup, the Organisation is a good bunch of _dead people_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to Aegu on PotterworldMC that agreed to let me have Audrey be a part of this story!


	5. We follow our instinct

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeremiah needs to escape and seek a refuge, in order to gather his forces, and plan something.

”It is not about you, Jeremiah”

 

“But it is, Mom!”

 

Jeremiah was 13, soon to be 14. His dark brown hair had gotten longer, reaching his jawline in some places. He was standing in front of his mother, Elisabeth, his cheeks covered with a few tears, tears of disappointment, deception, over which we could see the tiny reflection of the sunlight through the tiny windows.

 

“You’ll be just fine, and if you want to come back, there’s just a couple trains to…”

 

“But I’m not ready for that! I don’t want to spend my summers with Aimilona!”

 

She was waving her feet, sat on a stool in the kitchen. Guess what, she wore that innocent smile she does so well nowadays.

 

-

 

Something jumped at the window, a ball with fur in the darkness that sat in front of it silently. Audrey noticed, and went to open the old and heavy window, letting the light pink fur ball that had caused some mess in the potions room downstairs. It was holding a thin piece of wood.

 

Jeremiah’s wand.

 

“In a minute Sidera will come upstairs to warn me you have escaped. You apparently convinced her house elf to wait before warning her, not sure how you managed to do that. I never could anything positive from that thing. You’ll leave through this window. There’s a pink frog close by the river, across the wood. You’ll be there in 4 minutes if you walk straight on. You can’t miss the frog, it’s pink.”

 

He didn’t waste a second. Reached the window, then looked at her, about to say thank you.

 

“Please don’t. Get out.”

 

She was definitely not the friendly kind, oddly enough. Jeremiah wondered how she managed to seem so brilliant and be so unfriendly. She was already sitting on her bed again, a book opened, focused into it, with her light pink pet purring close to her waist.

 

 

*

 

 

The pink frog took Jeremiah to a spot close by the castle, at the boathouse. He wondered if Audrey would get in trouble for helping him. She was a smart kid for her age, and would probably manage to be just fine. However he had no idea where Aimilona went in the meantime. He looked over the lake, trying to notice the barque they were in, but couldn’t notice anything. The moon was illumination the whole lake and leaving a dim light over the forest behind.

 

He walked the stairs to reach the courtyard. He missed those stone walls, where so many lovely things happened, and dark things as well.

 

He’d seen Prior get in a fight with a student in Griffins on those very steps that lead to the Great Hall. He dared to mock Prior because his Astronomy teacher graded his essay about Constellations with a T, while Prior had bragged to have dedicated so much time to it. The student had lost an ear in that fight, that took a month to grow back.

 

He’d seen several lovers hide under the covered courtyard to live their first kiss. He remembered being out for a walk with Prior, that night where they both were supposed to study their exams together but instead decided to mess around with the statues in the entrance. That night, he heard someone giggling outside, in that same courtyard, and while Prior was changing the colour of a couple statue helmets, he went outside and caught Claire giving a loving, tender kiss to Angelina Wilkins, student in Honeybadgers.

The following morning, Claire threatened to slit his throat if he ever told anyone she was dating Angelina. Her whole face was red, covered in shame and anger. Jeremiah reacting by laughing so loud that half of the sleeping owls in the Owlery woke up and complained in long hoots. He put both hands on her cheeks, and gave her a kiss on the forehead, as if she was blessing her, then left, winking at her, not scared for a second with the threat, and confident she didn’t have to worry about anything.

 

 

“The Divination teacher said you’d come, then she fainted.”

 

Jeremiah looked up at the person who was talking to him, surprised to see someone this late in the courtyard.

 

“Professor Fawkes, it is a pleasure to see you again.”

 

“Pleasure not shared.” He looked at Jeremiah with a serious stare.

 

Jeremiah was not cheerful anymore. Why was everyone so difficult to pinpoint today?

 

“I’m joking, Mr Flamel. What brings you here?”

 

They smiled at each other. 

 

Paul Fawkes was Jeremiah’s Charms teacher during the last two years of his studies. Jeremiah found in Mr Fawkes a sort of alter ego, someone he had similarities with. They looked alike, a little, at the time he was a student: brown hair, at least one green eye, a strong jawline and a very outlined hairline covered by messy hair. Both of them were rather distant during conversations, not the very talkative type.

 

“I need a plan.”

 

“Let’s start with some rest. You look like you’ve been through a lot.”

 

Jeremiah didn’t really took the time to look at himself. He didn’t really pay a lot of attention to his appearance while he was figuring out a way to escape the grumpy elf in the Organisation’s manor. His boots weren’t laced, his shirt was creased and a little torn, his coat was not really closing anymore but was still giving him enough warmth to protect him from the cool winter.

 

They both walked through the viaduct, and reached the hall of a wing of the castle, and followed the corridor to the right of the main staircase ahead of them. Jeremiah knew this way was leading to the Transfiguration courtyard. The pillars, the hard stone ground, everything was so familiar. M Fawkes stopped in front of the fountain at the end of the hall. He pulled out his wand from a pocket of his robes.

 

“ _Aparecium_ ”

 

The paved wall behind the fountain started moving, decomposing itself, leaving the path free for wizards to walk by. 

 

“ _Impervius_ ”

 

He was performing those spells as if they were a daily routine. The water from the fountain vanished, swallowing itself in a couple seconds. Now there was no more obstacle for both Jeremiah and Paul to walk through. They reached the _hidden Headquarters of Serpents_.

 

“This is not used very often, but every graduate Serpent in need is welcome to spend a few days here.”

 

He placed a hand on Jeremiah’s shoulder, who instantly shivered, still very sensible after the numerous events he went through during the day. They didn’t need to speak to one another. Jeremiah surely needed some rest, and felt safer in here than going back home. The Comet would probably be spying the places he’d often been around to make sure he wasn’t doing anything silly against her, about the research, or causing trouble to the Organisation.

 

Mr. Fawkes left, leaving Jeremiah in the wide space that was slowly warming up with the flames of torches and the fireplace lit by their presence. The bed in the room next door was large and seemed comfortable. Everything was decorated with green and dark colours, banners, tapestries, carpets… There were large bookshelves, and a library with brewing stands and thousands of books.

 

He laid upon the large bed, looking at the ceiling, surrounded by the memories of the castle. A lot of people must have been by this bed, by those walls, and he couldn’t help but imagine what stories took place in this secret space. He left the curtains open, wishing to get up at dawn and start properly thinking of what’s happening next.

 

 

*

 

 

He fell asleep dressed up on the bed, still fixating the ceiling as he woke up. The room was illuminated by the sun, and Jeremiah would just roll over and continue to sleep after crawling under the sheet. But he needed to wake up and meet with Mr Fawkes, who he was trusting enough to tell him about his latest adventures. 

 

About Audrey, Sidera, and the Organisation. 

About Prior, Aimilona, and his research.

 

Outside a couple students were flying on their brooms over the viaduct, playing with a weirdly shaped projectile that was changing colour at every throw. A group of girls were looking from the bridge, holding their books, covered with their warm robes. It was cold enough so their breathing would emit a visible light vapour cloud.

 

He stood up and joined the main table in the entrance, where a house elf was slowly laying a table for two. Jeremiah didn’t immediately realise its presence, until he actually scratches his eyes and took a few seconds to ponder.

 

He sat at the table, and looked at the elf moving around. Another house elf was bringing the food from kitchen all the way to the entrance of the Headquarters, and then this one would do the service. After a couple minutes, the table was covered with more food than Jeremiah needed, especially for a breakfast.

 

“Excuse me”, he said to the house elf, that didn’t move an inch, but only his eyes came to meet his.

 

“If you were a house elf, and you were in trouble… Where would you go?”

 

He was thinking about Aimilona. Maybe Sidera got her captive in her manor, or maybe Prior killed her before he took me to Sidera’s manor. Jeremiah simply didn’t have a clue.

 

“House elves are bound to serve a place they call home, Sir. When in danger, we seek refuge. At home.”

 

Jeremiah thought for an instant Aimilona could have made her way back to his house, as she didn’tknow where Prior would take me.

 

“What if home is not safe?”

 

The elf stopped looking at Jeremiah, and looked down.

 

“Like humans, and other animals, Sir, house elves follow their instinct…”

 

He looked back at him again.

 

“Some of us would not bear to fail at being loyal, and through self-loathing, would simply stop living.”

 

Jeremiah wasn’t hungry any longer. He felt bad that all that food was so nicely displayed, yet the idea of Aimilona suffering and scared was tormenting him.

 

“If I may suggest, just an idea, Sir… If you seek somebody you lost, you will need some energy. I sincerely hope you will enjoy this breakfast.”

 

He vanished in a light smoke cloud, as if someone just blew out a candle, and marked the entrance of Mr Fawkes, holding his hat and now saluting Jeremiah.

 

“Did you sleep well? I see Abelard brought us plenty enough to eat.”

 

He sat, in front of Jeremiah, put his hat on the stool next to him, untied his heavy coat and dropped it on the stool on the other side.

 

“ _Comme un bébé_.”

 

Paul took a couple apples and started slicing them with a knife.

 

“So tell me, what have you been up to, since graduation?”

 

Jeremiah had studied Herbology for a few years after graduating. He released a few books, studied a handful of trees and multiple plants. He’d probably be one of the rare wizards able to describe a _Paulownia Ignis_ in its very details. He shared with Mr Fawkes his past trips to write about Herbology, and ended up talking about his current research.

 

“Ha! I swear I heard the Astronomy teacher talk about that as well at some point.”

 

“Professor, have you heard of a group of people that identify as _the Organisation_?”

 

He frowned, and stopped chewing his fourth apple slice, then swallowed it while thinking.

 

“I’m not too sure, to be honest.”

 

And Jeremiah started telling him about Prior, and the events at the Comet’s manor. He described what Sidera looked like, and mentioned Audrey.

 

“ _Audrey_ , yes, yes, she’s a Serpent. She attended my classes before. Rather peculiar isn’t she?”

 

To say the least. Jeremiah nodded.

 

“So, Sidera and a group of wizards declared dead are presumably doing experiments on magical transportation? Some graduates are involved, including Prior, and your house elf disappeared…”

 

Jeremiah nodded, again, crunching some bread and jam.

Mr Fawkes was trying to cover the whole situation and map it in his head. He was wondering if the Astronomy teacher could possibly know something about all of this. What matter could be so important that a whole Organisation gets created, especially around the elaboration of new transportation methods for wizards?

 

 

 

* _BANG_ * — * _Crumbling noises_ *   
  


 

The wall keeping the entrance safe had been blasted off, and rocks were spreading over the floor, some reaching Jeremiah’s feet, crouching next to his stool, his wand ready and aimed at the dust cloud.

 

 

 

*Stupefy!*

 

 

 

A trail of turquoise light flew off the dust cloud and missed Jeremiah, that jumped over the side to avoid being reached. The spell however wasn’t aimed at him, and hit Paul Fawkes, thrown against the opposite wall, stunned and laying on the floor.

 

 

The dust cloud was slowly fading away, and Jeremiah stood up, pointing his wand firmly to the entrance, more than ready to retaliate. Something was approaching.

 

A shadow…

 

A silhouette…

 

A man…

 

 

Prior Barrett.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to Whirlwindwar for allowing me to use his RP character in this Chapter!


	6. The Judgement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeremiah meets Prior again, and while Mr Fawkes is an ally, things might happen a little differently than expected.

Swirls of light sparks and magic were rocketing from Jeremiah’s wand, aimed at Prior, that was using protection charms as often as he could to dodge, but never attacking. Until the point where Jeremiah would manage to hit Prior to the leg.

 

“ _Diffindo_!”

 

The bottom of Prior’s robe tore, as well as half of his pant over his calf, that was now bleeding from a deep cut that made Prior lose attention for a second.

 

“ _Flipendo_!”

 

Prior’s body was propelled in the middle of the rocks spread over what was left of the entrance, enduring more pain at the landing than when actually being hit by the spell itself. The fall over the small boulders might have broken a couple ribs at most, followed by Prior screaming of pain, his wand lost during the flight over the room.

 

“Stop Jeremiah, STOP!”

 

There was hatred in Jeremiah’s eyes. So much hatred. 

He was imagining how much Aimilona was suffering. 

He was thinking of all the time spent on his research, lost because of him.

How many other wizards had he been faking friendship with in order to backstab them that way, for his own profit?

 

Prior was holding his leg to manage and refrain the bleeding. It wasn’t so bad, but the cut was quite deep.

 

“Why would I stop?”

 

Prior was panting because of the pain, the efforts to dodge the spells.

 

“I didn’t come for _that_.”

 

That? Capturing him, potentially killing Aimilona, ruining a couple years of research, reduced to a simple ‘that’? 

 

“ _Levicorpus!_ ”

 

He forced Prior’s body up, slowly levitating up to the tall ceiling, and was watching him from the ground, his wand lifted and focused.

 

“Jeremiah please!”

 

Blood was dripping from the wound and landing on the rocks.

 

“You have thirty seconds to tell me the truth, Prior”

 

“I had no choice! You have to understand…”

 

He took a few seconds to breathe, still holding his leg up in the air.

 

“She threatened my family, I had to take you to her!”

 

“What about Claire?”

 

He still didn’t know if what Prior told him about Claire was true. Maybe he had faked the letter from her parents.

 

“Jeremiah, I… I had to…”

 

 

 

He lowered his wand, letting the body drop, from two and a half meters high above those rocks, down to the ground. Prior screamed so load you could probably have heard him from the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Jeremiah walked to him, staring at him with a dull expression. You could read in his eyes he had intentions. 

Bad ones. 

He was seeking revenge.

 

He pointed his wand at Prior, that wasn’t saying a word, merely even sobbing, just grasped by surprise, pain, fear…

Jeremiah could fatally injure him. And after a few seconds, he had decided what would be the words he would pronounce. 

What the final judgement would be.

 

He opened his mouth, ready to cast a spell.

 

 

 

“ _Incarcerous_!”

 

 

 

Thick, brown, solid ropes had captured Jeremiah, arms aligned along his body, imprisoned.

 

The spell came from behind. Mr Fawkes had recovered consciousness, and probably saw the last few minutes from his very eyes.

 

“That is not who you are, Jeremiah.”

 

A murderer, he implied. 

 

“I have been your teacher, maybe there were some times we could identify each others as friends.”

 

He walked to stand in between him, entangled, and Prior.

 

“But today, you showed me that you were capable of torture against a wizard, and that, I cannot commiserate with.”

 

Jeremiah watched him, confused.

 

“What are you talking about? Prior has kidnapped me, and he just broke into this room, damaging the castle itself, and I’m the one you blame of doing bad things? He cast a spell at you, Paul!”

 

“… And justice shall be served, rightfully. But you’re in no position to decide of his fate, it’s not _your_ call.”

 

Jeremiah’s face was fading red, angry, full of rage.

 

“So you’re just going to let him run until some dumb aurorlock catch him actually doing something bad and provide proof? He could hurt other people, Paul. Maybe he hurt many wizards or witches by the past that we don’t know of. We could just _end this_ , now.”  


_end_.

 

_this_ …

 

 

Mr Fawkes lost the small perception of the friendship that tied the both of them. Jeremiah had changed, or appeared to be someone he didn’t truly know. He looked sad, and disappointed, but determined.

 

“I’m sorry Jeremiah. I’ve heard enough.”

 

His wand stopped shining. Jeremiah hadn’t noticed that for the whole time, Paul Fawkes was actually _recording_ their conversation.

Recording? But why would Paul Fawkes record such an evident truth? Words of honesty?

 

“… maybe I’m just a _dumb aurorlock_ , it’s not your fault, you couldn’t know…” and he opened the lapel of his robes to reveal an insignia.

 

“… but my duty obliges me to stop you from committing a murder.”

 

 

It was as if lightning struck Jeremiah. He turned pale.

 

Treachery…

 

Injustice…

 

What is going on? Why doesn’t he realise how dangerous Prior is?

He tried getting rid of the ropes, losing his wand trying to untie the tangles he was stuck into.

 

 

“Mr Barrett, Aurorlocks are on their way to pick you up and bring you to the Ministry for a statement, and a trial. I recommend not trying to escape, that would only make the sentence worse.”

 

Upon those words, he put his hand over Jeremiah’s shoulder, and they teleported, leaving Prior and his blood-drenched leg.

 

 

 

 

*

 

 

 

 

Jeremiah was sitting in this chair, in the middle of a court that only had one third of its seats occupied by wizards and witches, all dressed in burgundy velvet coats, and their matching pointy hats.

 

A judge was describing the words and intention heard through Mr Fawkes’ recording, and he wasn’t paying the littlest attention. Slowly, he was drowning in his own thoughts, wondering what he did wrong, slowly losing sanity over the feeling of being in the middle of a crazy prank, ready for someone to jump up and say ‘ _Surprise! you’ve been pranked!_ ’.

But everything was very, very real. He was about the murder Prior, and as the judge hit the desk with his hammer, his eyes sought for a friend, watching the faces of every member of the court around him, trying to understand what had just been said, acknowledge the words he didn’t pay attention to.

 

Mr Fawkes had been sitting on the side for the whole hearing, and left at the same time as the judge, while two aurorlocks picked Jeremiah, restrained with magical handcuffs, to take him to a very odd hallway. The walls had mesmerising stones, green stones that were bouncing off the low lighting with a psychedelic liquid movement. They reached a door, with a strong, solid black metallic frame, that one of them opened, to reveal a pitch black obscurity inside.

And as they moved Jeremiah into the doorframe, the atmosphere changed.

 

The location changed.

 

Everything went cold, and windy. Humid, too.

 

There was no sunlight in this place, it smelled like old humid caves, and the walls were of this very typical black type of stone we know for being the foundation of a very peculiar place.

 

  
A very _peculiar_ place.  
  
  
_The Dark Prison_.   
  
_Azkaban_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now I honestly wonder how authors can do any harm to their main character, because it rips my heart to inflict this to baby Jeremiah ;-;


	7. Vicious

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeremiah ponders, from his cell of the prison. What now?

It had been a week, now.

For the first time in a week, it wasn’t raining that night, and Jeremiah wasn’t sleeping, staring at the first starry night sky he could see since he was in his small cell.

He had interesting neighbours he was already used to. There was a lady on the cell at the right of his. She never spoke to him, but every hour she would scream “THE MILK!” out loud, right at the beginning of every hour.  
Jeremiah named her “The Clock Lady”.

To the left, a cell was occupied by a man that shared a few riddles with Jeremiah, to avoid boredom. He never mentioned his name, but Jeremiah named him “The Wise.”

Now, to the front, was a cell where a young wizard was held prisoner. He looked so young, yet he said multiple times he was 19, when the aurorlocks we mocking him, calling him “babyface”.

But Jeremiah didn’t name him “Babyface”, because that prisoner gave Jeremiah his name.   
 Greggory.

 

Greggory told Jeremiah his story as they were both eating their food ration for lunch one day.

“I caused an accident, on purpose. I was working in this bakery for a couple months, and my boss really wasn’t very… he wasn’t a nice person. He treated me more like a Cinderella than a baker. I think I washed the floor more times than I actually baked goods for the bakery.”

He had this OCD of always flipping his hair backwards, except he had exceptionally short hair, and ended up flipping his hand over nothing, every minute or so.

“I knew the building was supposed to have collapsed many years back, after suffering damages from a dragon invasion in the village. The owner had casted spells on the beams in order to maintain the house altogether and avoid any catastrophe. One day he spilt flour on the ground, just so that I could wash something again. I went to the restroom, upstairs, and lit a magical fire from there. I had a fire protection charm, of course, to protect me from it, except I wasn’t aware that my hair wouldn’t be protected… but it is starting to grow back!”

… through small patches. Large areas of his skull were missing hair, and he had no eyebrows anymore.

“What about your boss?” Jeremiah asked.

“The first floor collapsed over the large bread oven, that crushed him, haha!”

 

… haha?!   

They were all sleeping, or pretending to. Dinner had been short. As usual, an aurorlock went by and slid small boxes that would only open if you touch them, to preserve the food. Prisoners would never get food with any cutlery, in order not to harm themselves with them, or worse, manage to enchant them and use them as weapons or ways to escape.  
Jeremiah had a piece of onion tart, and a glass of something juicy but without any color, as translucent as water. The cups were made of proper glass, but as you finish the drink, the glass would dissolve, as if it was engineered to only wrap one beverage and then disappear.  
 The food wasn’t bad.   
The prison probably did best feeding the prisoners with correct food, as it’s very important to preserve dangerous criminals alive and in good shape, or “mood”, to later give evidences and acquire an avowal from them.

Even from the tiny tiny window, Jeremiah could see the comets he was contemplating for so long. He was still noticing the things that made him think they had something in common.

“THE MILK!! THE MIIIIILK!”

It probably was midnight, there really wasn’t any way of knowing precisely. Without The Clock Lady, they would all have lost sense of time.

Some nights, Jeremiah was obsessed with retaliation. How would he have his revenge on Mr Fawkes? Had Prior had enough of his injury? How about The Comet, what would she deserve?

He would need to regain strength in order to plan and think of the wisest and fairest way to restore justice in his life.

 

An aurorlock came to shake one of the iron bars that was composing the small window of his cell door.

"Jeremiah Flamel?"

Jeremiah looked at the wizard, covering his eyes from the light that his wand was emitting, and nodded calmly.

"You're out."

He opened the door with careful and precise incantations through the multiple locks, and prompted Jeremiah to walk up to him.

Jeremiah was confused. Why so early? The other inmates, those who were awake, were covering their forehead to not be blinded by the light of the aurorlock’s wand, and were staring at him.

Assaulting a wizard and torture him within a school of wizardry before an aurorlock was certainly not the smartest thing he did in his life, and was worth entitling him “dangerous wizard” for at least a few weeks, or months.

The aurorlock took him to a room past several strongly enchanted doors. The walls were cold and humid.

"Your parents paid for the whole case. They had a pretty good lawyer in magical laws, so it only took a few days to process. Consider yourself lucky.”

His parents? How would they know so soon that something happened to him? Did newspapers talk about it? Such an isolated incident had no business doing in a wizarding newspaper whatsoever.

Yet Jeremiah didn't ask any question, except one:

"Can I say goodbye?"

He wasn't the most friendly person there was, yet in moments of deepest solitude and bad conditions, the connections he had within the prison, with the Clock Lady, Greggroy, or the Wise, were stronger than usual.

"To whom would you like to say Goodbye? You made friends of those murderers? I can still take you back to your cell for many valid reasons, Mr Flamel. Hurry up before I change my mind"

He thought about it, and swore to himself to look after them once freed, and proceeded to the exit, that consisted of an old wooden door, obviously connected to another location by the looks of it.

 

-

 

“I don’t want to hear about it, Jeremiah.”

“— Papa, I’m telling you, those aurorlocks were manipulated. Mr Fa…

“— Don’t make me repeat myself again. Your mother is even more upset than I am, consider yourself lucky she didn’t fly all the way to England herself.”

 

Jeremiah sighed. He was facing that painting in the house, through which he was communicating with his parents, or at least his dad.

“I’ll talk to you later, BeauxBois heard of that mistake you made and we’re getting a lot of comments from the school, both staff and students. Can you imagine what it is like to be considered the parents of a murderer?”

“— That’s the point, papa, I didn’t murder anyone.”

 

A curtain closed itself in the painting, covering the saddened face of Leon Flamel.

Jeremiah loved his father. He loved him a lot, and looked up to him very often.

But he wasn’t feeling guilty, the past few days had been far too eventful for that.

Next to him was a pile of letters from the Ministry, most of them summoning him for a trial he didn’t want to attend to. He had been through one, and it felt like a sick prank someone was playing on him.

Aimilona would have handled all the paperwork in minutes. Everything she left behind was the dust she wasn’t wiping anymore since she was gone.

Jeremiah would never matter enough to clean the place up. He realised he tell his father about what happened with Aimilona. Probably for the best, until he truly knows what happened to her.

 

Prior was hurt, severely, from the spells he had casted on him. There was one place he could find him for sure: St Merlin’s hospital for wizards and witches. That’s a small chance of getting any sort of information, yet it’s more than nothing.

**Author's Note:**

> For those who don't know, PotterworldMC is a Minecraft server inspired by the wizarding world of Harry Potter.


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